


With My Hands

by IchorTales



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Almost no talking, Choking, Dominant Will Graham, Edgeplay, Feelings, Fluff, Hannibal Loves Will, Hannibal deifies Will, He's just so goddamn in love okay, Intimacy, M/M, Masochism, Mini Fic, POV Hannibal, Post-Series, Sadism, Submissive Hannibal, Will Loves Hannibal, but lots of feelings, but no sex, death kink, except not really, or something like that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-29
Updated: 2017-08-29
Packaged: 2018-12-21 10:35:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11942337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IchorTales/pseuds/IchorTales
Summary: Hannibal and Will survived their fall and have made a home for themselves.They indulge in their momentary safety and freedom, and on a clear moonlit night as they kiss under the stars, they share a both new and old kind of intimacy as Will puts his hand on an eager Hannibal's throat.





	With My Hands

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by some pretty intense text RP and the gushing that came with it. I finished the series two days before writing this, so... make of that what you will. It's the first fic that I'm posting here and it's tiny because I'm just warming up to posting my writing coherently, so please excuse the brevity. I hope you enjoy it and let me know what you think!

"With my hands."

That was what Will had said when Hannibal had asked how he would kill him, how he imagined it when he fantasized about taking his life.  
Intimate, they had called it when he'd done it to Randall Tier, and a faint glimmer of jealousy had stirred in Hannibal's chest.  
The idea of Will taking another man's life, squeezing it out of him with a savage sensuality to the touch on his victim's desperately flexing throat, was thrilling in a voyeuristic kind of way, but Hannibal found himself envying that sense of connection.

Now, he would get what he wanted. Intimacy was a fact of their new, shared life, the life they had stolen together when they had refused to let death part them. But this particular moment had a certain quality to it, a lingering, unspoken gravity like the presence of the full moon on clear nights when a silver silence enveloped the world, and Hannibal knew Will felt it too when Will's fingers curled around his throat.

They had been kissing indulgently on the front porch of the house they had, for now, made their home after they had washed up on that beach after their fall and Will had yanked him out of the talons of death like a defiant angel, disobeying the finality of the Grim Reaper's touch.  
The breeze caressed their bare torsos and their hair as if it were jealous of the touches they shared, and truly, why wouldn't it be?

At some point, Will had climbed into Hannibal's lap, straddling him and bringing them closer together. Their lower halves were clothed, but that was just fine. As ravenous as they both were, savouring their passion was what they both needed that night.

They all too easily got drunk on each other, and Hannibal welcomed it, but it seemed that tonight they both were far too focused on the taste of the wine to let it get into their blood already.

There had been a looming, almost eerie tenderness in the air, and now that Will ran his hand over Hannibal's throat, testing but with unmistakable intent, Hannibal understood why.

Hannibal opened his eyes when he felt his touch, curiously glancing at Will, and the picture he made was astounding.

Will's eyes were glinting, starlight reflected in his gaze and moonbeams bathing his body in a sheen of silver, catching in his hair like mercury, and he looked correspondingly deadly. His eyes seemed to glow on their own accord, and Hannibal came to realise that Will had to have been staring at him with that black glimmer in his eyes.

Black like blood in the moonlight.

For a moment, Hannibal found himself staring, captivated, and then he felt Will's hand move, palm cupping his Adam's apple and fingers twisting so that he'd grasp his neck. Will wasn't squeezing, just holding, testing and still gentle, but Hannibal observed his jaw tensing and his nostrils trembling with restraint as he took a deep breath. Hannibal held that black gaze, swallowed thickly beneath Will's hand, then slowly and deliberately tipped his head back, just so far that he could still look into Will's eyes.

Hannibal could feel Will's chest brush against his own when Will drew in a deep breath in response to that offering of vulnerability. 

Will made a restrained motion with his head, turned it, it reminded Hannibal of a time when Will had fiercely wrestled with his impulse to kill, when he was on the brink of giving in to it, and then his eyes darkened and Hannibal felt his grip tighten, slowly, very slowly constricting his airway. Hannibal watched the tentativeness melt in the flames in Will's eyes and then shivered as he felt it getting harder to draw air. He didn't attempt to take a breath and hold it, nor did he tense up his neck muscles and fight back against that grip like he would with any other person's hand wrapped around his throat. He swallowed and breathed deeper through the narrowed airway. His pulse quickened, urged him to breathe faster, and he complied, his hands slipping from Will's thighs to his upper back as his chest heaved, the sounds of his breath raspy and laboured.

Will watched him struggle to breathe for a moment, seemed to bask in the sight, then the glimmer in his eyes flickered and he tightened his hand, holding Hannibal's windpipe shut.

Hannibal stilled his movements and parted his lips, his instinct telling him to gasp as he felt a wave of sweetly burning arousal roll through him, but of course he couldn't gasp.

For a moment they sat still, gazes locked as fiercely as Will's fingers on his throat. Then Hannibal's survival instincts awoke, urged him to struggle, fight back, save himself. He resisted those instincts for as long as he could, muscles quivering with restraint, and then he couldn't anymore, his hands gripping on to Will's back, clawing, resisting and yet holding on to him and keeping him close, his abdomen flexing with hunger for air, neck tensing and teeth baring in a soundless snarl, a hint of fear clenching his chest, but no regret. And Will persisted, held him still with one hand in his hair and the other unrelentingly tight, seeming unimpressed by the desperate twitches of Hannibal's muscles. Hannibal's eyes were fixed on Will's, captivated by the flaring bonfire within, the wildness that was usually so carefully hidden finally unleashed and splashed right across his face like blood on a wall. He was still glowing in the moonlight, but now it seemed to come from within him, he was in control, the moonlight only shimmered on his skin because Will allowed it. He looked translucent, ethereal, otherworldly. Boticelli would pale with envy.

And then, Hannibal's vision started to blur at the edges. His fingers tingled with oxygen deprivation, went slack, feebly grasped at Will's back, shivers replacing the resistant muscle contractions, and his eyes fluttered, wanted to close, but Hannibal clung to the sight of Will becoming steadily more blurred until the moonlight formed a sort of halo around the edges of his body.

The used air burned in Hannibal's lungs, his heartbeat pumping violently in his stomach, and he could barely keep his eyes from shutting. A warmth seeped through the panic and swallowed it, replaced it with a blissful ease. Hannibal saw a veil overshadowing the brilliant moonlight, steadily seeming more corporeal, and from behind, he saw a glimpse of death, beckoning him, whispering, blowing him a kiss with lips like Will's.  
Darkness reached out for him.

And then Will yanked him back, withdrew his hand and gave a press to his diaphragm that pulled Hannibal out of his delirium, made him cough out the stale air and gulp in desperate breaths, only distantly aware of Will's arms tenderly embracing him, cradling him while his chest heaved and he blinked to clear his returning vision. His muscles burned, his racing heart finally pumped oxygen through his greedy body, he slumped against Will's chest, half falling, half pulled by his arms, and lay panting against him for a long while. 

Then, he felt Will's shoulders square with relief as Hannibal tangibly calmed down, and Hannibal raised his head to look at Will.

He was undeniably human again, a sheen of tears in his eyes and a reckless smile forming on his face. Hannibal assumed that it was his own expression that made Will smile, but it mattered little. Hannibal's hand still trembled as he reached up to cup Will's cheek and run his fingers into his hair where he anchored them, making Will's smile spark through his eyes, and Hannibal realised that his tears weren't remorseful. He didn't find a word in any language to describe the emotion he read in Will's face, but he knew then that Will would never let that veil separate them. He'd always yank him back in time, and eventually, they would cross the veil together. Will turned his head and cradled the back of Hannibal's skull in his hand, leaning in to rest their foreheads against one another. Hannibal imagined that silver glow sticking to him wherever Will touched him. He was Will's canvas in more ways than one, and he would gladly be a testament to Will's divinity.

"Intimate," Hannibal muttered, voice hoarse from the strain on his throat, and Will laughed softly in recognition and agreement, fingers gentle and soothing in his hair.

Hannibal knew that Will accepted his gift now.

**Author's Note:**

> SO.  
> Phew. That was my first AO3 fic.  
> How intimate.
> 
> I hope you had a good time with it.  
> I'd like to say hi and thanks for supporting this mess (me) to Cap.  
> And my mum. Hi, mum.
> 
> Anyway, this is my thing (design).  
> Don't judge me too hard for the fluff mkay.  
> Have an amazing day, lords, ladies and non-binary royalty.
> 
> Peace.


End file.
